Readers reflect on Hurricane Sandy

For thousands of New Jersey residents, Sandy’s horrors are still raw and far from over. These are residents whose homes were torn from their foundations, whose cherished belongings were dashed to pieces by waves and wind.

Almost two weeks after the storm moved on, other New Jerseyans still wait for their lights to come on in neighborhoods marred by fallen trees and branches.

For some, however, the process of recovery and reflection has begun, thinking back on the storm and its effects on families, communities and the state at large. Many have written to The Star-Ledger with their observations. Today, we share several of these reflections with our readers.

No power, no problem

There’s something to be said for no power.

There’s the quiet. The kind of silence we can’t know when the house hums with all systems going.

There’s the novelty of rethinking customary habits. How to stretch a kettle of hot water for a shampoo and sponge bath? What dinner to make of nonperishables? What tasks to finish before nightfall brings darkness?

Trusty books, lately set aside for electronic options, await faithfully and in abundance. Intimate, extended conversation. Thoughtful games of Scrabble by candlelight.

Candlelight. And firelight. How they draw us into their magic. They are, by nature, romantic.

Romance. Six layers of blankets help, but there’s nothing like body heat to warm the bed.

And there’s the strengthened ties between people. Family, friends and neighbors share supplies, offering helping hands and war stories over wine and flashlights. These bonds brighten life more powerfully than an electric grid.

When, finally, the lamps flickered and shone, and the furnace cast its first fusty fumes, we yelled, “Yippee!” But when people say, “You stayed home for the week? How did you manage?” — we answer, truthfully, very well.

Elaine Jaskol, Monroe Township

Unsung heroes

As career PSE&G employees, my father and two brothers have seen their share of disaster. My brothers, both linemen, have worked tirelessly and without complaint for New Jersey for more than 20 years. They understand the frustration felt by the people they are trying to get back on line. Their compassion and empathy remain intact, even after 17-hour days when they have to stop just to get a hot meal, a shower or precious sleep.

I am incensed and appalled by the criticism of unsung heroes like them. Most of these brave men and women are our neighbors, our friends, our families. We cannot control the weather, but we can take a moment to recognize all of the impacts of disasters like this.

My brothers are always telling me stories of the gestures of gratitude toward them from people who seemingly have nothing left. If those people can find the time and fortitude to give their last cup of coffee, a sandwich or even a hug (they get a lot of hugs), then the naysayers could at least keep their negativity to themselves.

We need to thank them. All of them. Simply because they don’t expect it. They’re just doing their job.

Dania J. Gleeson, Randolph

Lessons from Sandy

In the scheme of things, I got lucky in superstorm Sandy. I went a few days without power and suffered very little damage to my home. My loved ones are accounted for and we’re safe enough to help others however we can.

Thanks to Sandy, I have also learned or been reminded of a few things:

I don’t need to turn on all the lights during the day — opening curtains is usually enough.
Planning trips and making one big loop really does save gas, and very often time.
We need better driver education.

Many volunteer emergency responders have good hearts, but ineffective training and inadequate resources. People expect them to “be there,” but make no effort to support them, financially or otherwise.

People from other parts of the country who left their families to come help us sometimes go unappreciated. In fact they are real, actual, honest-to-God heroes, disguised as folks just doing their jobs.

Even a cup of lukewarm, not-very-good coffee can make your day. And a simple hug of thanks truly does warm body and soul.

Stan Olochwoszcz, Edison

The commune

After Sandy, I was one of the lucky ones, in too many ways to count. Friends with power offered my son and me a guest room and I accepted. My mother found safety, solace and Boggle with her sisters. Her beach house was unscathed, although information was scant.

As the days passed without power, rumors of devastation crept in. One family with power opened its home to 10 families without. A makeshift commune blossomed of group meals and kids’ camp games, charging stations and workspaces.

For a week, I experienced people’s abundant generosity and heard of others’ hoarding and panic. As new routines and basic needs were secured, more and more distant friends stopped by and checked in to make sure my son and I were okay. Then the homeowners went on vacation, gave out keys and, incredibly, let the commune stay.

V.C. Chickering, Maplewood

I am a Jersey Girl

I am a Jersey Girl, though not native to New Jersey.

I became a Jersey girl gradually — adapting to life in a beautiful Jersey town, attending more Springsteen concerts than I can count and bearing the brunt of many New Jersey jokes. Now I am a Jersey Girl.

I never fully understood the concept of “going down the Shore” until living here for several years. I love the distinct beauty of each beach town. I wonder what still exists?

And my imagination won’t let me go there. The boardwalks I have walked, ice cream at Nagle’s, Ocean Grove’s pier, the beach house my family shares on Memorial Day weekends. The trip down Route 35 south, always a challenge, but always beautiful as I drive through Bay Head and Mantoloking.

I still mourn for all my fellow Jerseyans who lost homes where memories were created, and the devastation at the Shore. But I know people will rebuild and the Shore will come back. We come from New Jersey. We are tough, we are strong. This I know, because I am a Jersey Girl.

Susan Madorma, Mountainside

Jersey at its best

Because we suspected our regular polling place would not be open because of Hurricane Sandy, my husband and I voted on Sunday at the Essex County Clerk’s Office.

That was probably the only time in my life that I didn’t mind waiting 1½ hours in line for anything. There were so many people who wanted to make sure that they could exercise their right to vote. It was especially heartening to see the number of young people who stood in line with us. This was New Jersey at its best.

I am a volunteer in the emergency room at Mountainside Hospital in Glen Ridge. As I arrived on Oct. 30, after the storm, there were 10 ambulances and transport vans waiting to get into the ER. I thought I would walk into total chaos and panic. Instead, as I checked in, the head nurse said, “Good morning, Paula. Thank you for coming in.”
Although patients were crowded around the front desk, I heard nurses laughing with patients and doctors treating each one like they were the only person there. The volunteer ambulance squads showed grace under pressure as patients became agitated and frightened.

I attended to a woman who had been transported from two other hospitals before arriving at Mountainside. By now, all she wanted was a sandwich and a hot cup of coffee. After the nurse evaluated her, we both brought her what she wanted, plus a smile.

I observed a staff of dedicated doctors and nurses come together to care for a patient having a heart attack. Even more amazing was how the other patients reacted with the same compassion.

We sometimes forget to be generous of thought to the professionals driving the ambulances and working in our hospitals.

Paula G. Craig, volunteer, Mountainside Hospital

Act of kindness

Terrible storms frequently bring out the best in people. My wife and I left as scheduled on a vacation to the Bahamas, but a day early. All we had to do was enjoy the balmy breezes and worry about the home we would return to.

After three days, our son’s power was restored and he was able to contact us. On arrival at our home, he found my 40-foot pine tree had toppled away from the house, fortunately — yet had completely blocked the road. Unknown neighbors were ringing the doorbell to find out what we could do about it, because the road company had its hands full.

“They are away,” my son advised. The neighbors disappeared. Returning later in the day, my son found two, three people — who knows how many — with chain saws demolishing the tree. They neatly stacked all the wood on my sidewalk and the road was opened. I don’t even know who they were.

As Longfellow wrote: They folded their tents like the Arabs, and as silently stole away.